


Summer's End

by Imonagoodmixture



Category: Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump - Fandom, petetrick - Fandom
Genre: M/M, female OCs - Freeform, pete wentz/patrick stump - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imonagoodmixture/pseuds/Imonagoodmixture
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Patrick and Pete nearly got married but things didn't work out for them as planned. After a knock down drag out argument Pete left and never came back. They both ended up bitter and trying to get as far away from each other as possible. But what happens when their twin daughters who were never told the other sibling existed meet by chance at a soccer camp at which they are both staying for the Summer?Petetrick 2017 AU





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaiming thing: I claim NO ownership to the people in this fanfic. It's fanfic. It's NOT real. It'll never be real. It is not true and it never happened.

1

"Cabin six?" Trisha asked, pushing the screen door open.

"Yep. Cabin six." A redhead looked up from unpacking a bag. "Hi. I'm Annabelle. That's Celene over there." She pointed to the black girl with long braids tied into a ponytail that was lounging on the other bunks. "Some chick named Brooklyn is the other person rooming with us for the Summer. Are you okay with the top bunk because I will literally fall off of it during the night if you don't take it because I am so well coordinated."

"Top's fine, yeah." Trisha laughed. "Patricia Stump. Trisha."

"Wait. So you're not Brooklyn's twin? I thought you were. What, are you like, her cousin or something?"

"What? Lynn's not my cousin. I mean I know her but I have never actually met her in person. She's just a friend I met a couple years ago on Tumblr."

"Stop lying." Annabelle grinned. "You've got to at least be cousins. You're messing with us. Your last name probably isn't even Stump."

"Why would I lie about my last name? It's right here." Trisha pointed to the cabin assignment and info papers she had been given along with everyone else upon arrival at the soccer camp right outside of San Diego.

Celene got up and stuck her head out of the door and yelled to a girl with dark hair who was in front of the cabin across the way from them and talking to someone else. "Hey, Brooklyn!"

Brooklyn turned around in the direction of the cabin. "What?!"

"Get in here and tell your cousin or whatever to stop screwing with us!"

"My cousin's not here! What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Clearly she is! So get over here and tell her to chill!"

"That's not my cousin," Patricia said as Brooklyn finished her conversation and made her way over.

Brooklyn jogged up to the door and pulled it open. "Hey, I don't have a cousin here guys so... whoa..." 

She broke off entirely upon seeing Trisha. They could have been twins. It was almost as if they were. They had the same long, dark hair. They had the same facial structure. They had the same skin tone. They both had eyes that were the exact same shade of hazel.

"I didn't think you would look that much like me in person. I thought it was just like, I don't know, seeing pictures of you online Trish, I didn't think you were gonna... I just thought we had similar features or something..."

"I didn't... I agree... What the hell?"

"Gee. You'd think you never saw your cousin before." Celene commented sarcastically.

"That's not my cousin," Trisha repeated, slower this time, still taking in how much Lynn looked like her.

"Then your sister. Seriously, stop screwing around you guys. Nobody's falling for it."

"She's not my sister! We're not even related! We don't even have the same last name! See. Brooklyn Wentz. Patricia Stump." Trisha jabbed the rooming assignment with her index finger.

"Okay. Whatever. But I find it very hard to believe you two don't have the same mother and father." Annabelle said.

"We don't! Look, this is my dad." Trisha thumbed through the photos on her phone for a minute and practically shoved the screen in Annabelle, Celene, and Lynn's faces when she found a photo taken of them back on her birthday but Lynn was busy looking for a photo of her dad to prove she and Trisha weren't messing around. 

She quickly found a photo of her father on her phone and did the same. "And this is my dad!" Then she caught sight of the photo on Trisha's red iPhone's screen. "Hold on. That's your dad?!"

"Uh, yeah."

Lynn swallowed. "That's, that's uh, that's my dad's ex. At least it looks like the one photo I have seen. But that thing was busted and old so maybe it's not the same person."

"So you guys are like twins, but you didn't know?" Celene said skeptically.

"No," Lynn said. Then: "...I don't know... That guy does look a lot like dad's ex that he never talks about."

"What was his name?" Trisha asked.

"Who's?"

"Your dad's ex, Lynn, who else?! Keep up here."

"Oh. Patrick. Your dad's name..." Lynn drifted off. "But I didn't think... Shit... We have the same birthday too... February eighth. We're both fifteen. Damn. Who was your mom?"

"Don't have one. Dad was pretty serious with a guy. They were gonna get married. I had a surrogate mother."

"Shit... What... I did too. What is even happening right now?"

"Fuck, you never told me your dad's full name. Does it have a the third on the end of it?" Trisha asked. "I remember dad saying something about how he and his ex used to joke about how pretentious it sounded that he had that on the end of his name."

"...Um... Yeah. My dad is Pete Wentz three."

"You're shitting me." Trisha said, dumbfounded.

"You're shitting me!" Lynn said right back to her.

"So you guys are twins?" Celene said again as she started putting a sheet over her bunk's green canvas mattress.

"I don't know..."

"How do you still not know? Your dads are exes! You both have a surrogate mother! You look exactly alike! How do you still not know?!"

"What was your mom's name Trish? The name on your birth certificate?"

"Celeste or something, I think."

"Oh my God. Oh, my God. We are twins. You look exactly like me. I look exactly like my dad. Same surrogate mother. Oh, my God. Shit. I'll prove it to you," Lynn pulled the photo of her dad she just had displayed on her phone up again and Lynn's father was definitely also Trisha's.

"You wanna like, go down to the beach and discuss this Lynn?"

"No time you guys," Annabelle said. "We gotta go get team colors and crap in like five minutes."

"Okay, so like, after dinner then Trisha?"

"Yeah. Definitely."

"So your dads never told you guys?" Celene asked disbelievingly. "That's messed up."

 

 

"So the twins get to fight it out this Summer," Annabelle said as the four made their way down the shoreline of Imperial Beach, California. It was only a few hundred yards away from the main camp and many of the white wood screened in cabins.

"Get to fight it out with you too Annabelle. You're yellow. And," Lynn looked directly at Trisha, "This red team bitch is goin' down."

"Hell yeah." Celene seconded. "Blues are gonna kick ass."

"Yeah right, Lynn. This time next year I'll be scouted for Northwestern."

"Wait for the first scrimmage, Trisha. Just wait."

"Whatever."

"So... We are twins. We are sisters." Lynn started, digging the toe of her shoe into the sand. "I'm gonna sit." She lowered herself into the light brown grains and removed her shoes and let the water of the ocean wash over her feet.

"Tell me about it." Trisha murmured. "I was thinking about that the entire practice."

"Yeah, I can't believe your dads never told you guys." Celene sat down next to her and the other two joined them as well. "I mean, that is like, really messed up. I know I said that earlier but that's messed up. My sisters drive me nuts sometimes but I wouldn't want to not have them. And you guys are from Chicago?"

"I am," Trisha said.

"I'm not. I actually live a few hours from here in Los Angeles." Lynn explained. "My dad is, though. That's his hometown. We go out there every year for the holidays and stuff."

"I'm from Michigan," Celene told them. "I figured you guys would probably be somewhere in the Midwest if you were talking about Northwestern."

"Nope. Just Trish." Lynn shook her head. "I am gonna apply to Northwestern next year, though. I'm trying to get a math scholarship. And I like it in Chicago. More than LA even though LA is awesome. And it's a good school so..."

"Gross. I hate math." Trisha made a face.

"Well, I'm actually really good at it. I'm gonna get a degree in it. I don't know what I'm gonna use it for but it's math and if I know math I know whatever job I get will be one that helps people."

"Well, I just want a soccer scholarship, Lynn."

"See I wanna get out of the Midwest when I go to college. Maybe New Orleans or N.Y.C or something." Celene said.

"My dad left Chicago after he and Patrick killed their engagement." Lynn continued, "That's what he said when I asked him who the blonde guy in that photo I found was while cleaning out some junk from the garage. Said he was trying to get as far away as possible or something. That and I guess being in LA helps when you run some weird indie record label." She leaned far back and flattened out and looked to the clouds. Lynn wasn't too worried about the sand sticking to the sweat in her hair and on her body. She was going to shower after dinner anyway. She kind of had to because of the two-hour practice they all had just finished.

"Yeah, I never said anything about that but your dad is Pete Wentz," Annabelle said. "Nice. I like his stuff. But I guess that makes me a huge hipster because I like albums that far underground."

"Nah, you'd have to be reaaaaally hipster to know who my dad is." Trisha laughed. "I mean he makes good money off of it but only like, really, really hipster-y hipsters to know who he is. Like really alternative. If you don't know who my dad is you're fine."

"I bet you've met Ryan Ross too," Annabelle said. "Isn't he on your dad's label?"

"I have met Ryan Ross, yeah," Lynn said. "A couple times. Ryan Ross is awesome."

"Is he as good looking in person?"

"Definitely. Better looking."

"Sweet."

"So your dad was trying to get away from my dad. I bet he'd be thrilled to know that you're gonna be hanging out at his ex's house at the end of the Summer." Trisha smirked.

"Oh, he doesn't even know. He just threatened me with never allowing me to leave the house again if I don't run you by my grandparents and let them deem you okay before we do anything and I have to tell them where I'm gonna be and all that stuff if we're gonna hang out while I'm at their house for the week. He was like "You better do it, Lynn. And if they don't trust her or think something's not right, you're not seeing her and I'm gonna call them to make sure you do what I told you." Lynn stretched her arms high above her head in the sand. Her gray tee shirt slid up a couple inches and revealed an intricate black belly button ring.

"That's cute," Celene said.

"I got it for my birthday. My dad was like "I don't care if you get your stomach pierced but I better not hear about you showing it to boys." and all that noise about me not sleeping around and I was like "Dad. Chill. I'm not taking my clothes off for guys." and he was like "You better not be." and then he gave me this whole lecture about not getting a tattoo done at fifteen because one, it's not even legal, and I wouldn't get anyone who knew what they were doing to do it and he has a really bad one from when he was fifteen and it got gross and infected and I wouldn't like an infected tattoo and blah, blah, blah. And Trish, I just thought about this but, my grandparents are your grandparents. They're gonna be thrilled because you know, grandparents always love their grandchildren. It's the law or something. You don't have to worry about them being weird and screwed up like our dads at least."

"Yeah, seriously, why the hell did they never tell you guys?" Celene asked for the one-hundredth time. "That's not cool. Why would they separate you like that and not even bother to tell you the other one even existed?"

"Maybe they were trying to get as far away from each other as possible like my dad said." Lynn shrugged. "Maybe they didn't want to fight for custody and they both took one twin and went their separate ways and that's still really screwed up, isn't it? What if me and Trisha had never found each other on Tumblr? We could have gone our whole lives without knowing. And it's even stupider because dad has never said anything bad about Patrick. He seems kind of like he's still fond of him even. I feel like he can't even remember what they even fought about or why they called it quits."

"My dad's kind of the same way. Even said that there was one point where he was sure it was gonna last and then one day they fought about whatever and Pete left and didn't come back."


	2. 2

2

 

"I really hate running. Why is there always running?" 

Trisha tried to focus on ignoring the burning in her limbs and pushing herself down the beach with the rest of the girls around her. At least it wasn't hot on the beach this morning. There was actually a nice breeze for the morning run and the sea air had a good smell to it.

"It's a soccer camp. For people who are in shape. They're gonna make you run, Trisha." Lynn said as she jogged along right next to her.

"Why, though? I'm in great shape. Why do I have to run two miles at like, the crack of dawn?"

"How are you ever gonna get scouted for college soccer? You probably couldn't even beat me in a race with the way you complain and lag behind every morning."

"I could kick your ass in a race, Lynn." Trisha panted.

"Yeah. Sure."

"Okay. After practice this afternoon. Before dinner. Here on the beach. We'll see who can run farther." Trisha declared. She was and always had been over competitive. She could never let someone tell her she couldn't do something. It had made her run into problems more than once when she couldn't actually do something.

"Are you sure? You seem kind of half dead right now Trish. I don't want you to suffer just so you can lose."

"Who's losing? I'm not gonna lose. Sounds like you're the one who's afraid of losing."

"You guys are so dumb." Annabelle rolled her eyes on Trisha's other side, brushing a loose strand of red hair away from the sweat on her face.

"Not really. I have sisters too. I know how it is." Celene said, directly in front of them.

Maria, the red team's coach who was leading the entire group, yelled at the runners to speed up.

"I hate running." Trisha's complaint was drowned out when the group threw themselves into sprinting.

 

 

 

"I am gonna shove all the food into my face," Trisha announced, grabbing a lunch tray in the mess and getting into the long food line after the first round of practice was done for the day around three hours later.

Lynn snorted. "Dude. You eat like a rabbit. I doubt it."

"Do you see all that avocado up there? I'm gonna shove all that food in my face. I love avocado. Best thing ever, my guy. And Dad's vegetarian. I'm not gonna make myself sick on meat. I don't eat meat enough at home to stuff myself full of it here a few days before the first scrimmage. I will like, make myself throw up all over the cabin if I eat all this meat."

"Then you're sleeping outside," Celene told her.

"I'm not sleeping outside. I told you. I'm gonna like, shove all the fruit up there in my face. And then, with my veggie power, I'm gonna kick Lynn's ass later."

"Trisha," Annabelle said. "I thought you hated running. Don't tell me you're still gonna do that."

"Duh. Have to. Lynn said I couldn't beat her in a race. So I must prove her wrong. It's the rules."

 

 

"Why would you make me run this far? I hate you." Trisha collapsed in the wet sand, her chest heaving. The water of the Pacific ocean pooled up over her shins.

"You could have stopped at any time." Lynn flopped on her butt next to her, inhaling and exhaling hard as hard as her sister. She buried a hand under the wet sand.

"And let you win? Yeah, right. It's not the way I'm wired, Lynn. Remember how I told you about the time I broke my wrist because I can't skateboard for shit but I thought I could with my basic bitch skills because I am stupid and I took that stupid dare my idiot friends told me I couldn't do? Yeah."

Trisha suddenly started laughing at the memory. "Dad was so fucking pissed about that! Chewed me out the entire way to the ER. It was hilarious!"

Lynn rolled her eyes really hard and kicked water at her, the droplets spraying everywhere. "Then you IMed me from the hospital last year when you made yourself sick off of five-year-old gum they dared you to eat-"

"Hey! That is not my fault Lynn! I didn't know you could give yourself fucking botulism from old gum! It was unopened and everything. I just thought it was gonna taste like shit! And it did! But not just because it was yellow stride! But I didn't think I was gonna end up in the hospital for like five days! And I didn't even tell you half of how mad dad was when that happened, holy shit! That was scary! You have never heard the riot act until you hear the riot act on your way home after a week in the hospital after you give yourself botulism from old gum!"

"You're an idiot. And can you move?" Lynn pushed Trisha with her wet foot. "I want to get some ocean photos for my blog while I'm here."

"I'm not sure how much aesthetic you can find in a soccer camp, Lynn," Trisha remarked as her sister rinsed her dirty, sandy hand and stood up.

"You're just mad you're stuck on basic bitch blog island with the rest of Tumblr. Just move." Lynn reached into her shirt and dug her phone out of her black sports bra.

"Me?!" Trisha let out a faux gasp and clasped her chest with one hand. 

"Yes, you, Trisha."

"That hurts Lynn. Maybe now you don't get to know about my super awesome idea that I have been thinking about since last night. I mean, since I'm such a basic bitch."

"Does it involve five-year-old gum after like running five miles down a beach? Because if it does I think I'll pass. We have a scrimmage at the end of the week."

"It does not involve old gum! That was one time! And we did not run five miles. It was like three tops."

"Until someone dares you to do it again."

"No. I don't think you understand how much that sucked. Or how mad dad was. I was like, passed out in my own vomit in the downstairs bathroom I had thrown up so much. Everything hurt. He was like fucking crying when I woke up in the ER that night. He thought I'd overdosed or something until I explained the old gum thing. It was really bad."

"But anyway, I'm gonna tell you my idea anyway," Trisha said excitedly. "My idea is that we switch at the end of Summer."

"We switch? Like, go to each other's houses?" Lynn focused her cellphone camera on the shoreline and the swirling water and seafoam until she got the frame painfully precise and then snapped the picture.

"Right. You want to meet Patrick, right? I really want to meet Pete."

"So when Patrick finds out he can kick me out in the street," Lynn said skeptically as she took a couple of photos of the ocean and the horizon. "It's not gonna work, Trisha. Damn, these are bomb. I wish this place had wifi."

"Lynn. Dad's not gonna kick you in the street. You're his fucking child. And he's like the nicest person that ever existed. That's so dumb and dramatic. And you realize I would be at your house right? So I would be in the same situation. And anyway, how would they know? We're identical twins. If you take my stuff and I take your stuff and we act enough like each other they probably won't figure it out."

"They're gonna figure it out eventually! And how are you gonna get it past our grandparents Trish? Old people have a sixth sense for bullshit. Especially my dad's parents. Grandma told me all the crap dad used to get into when he lived there."

"Duh. Then they switch us back. Or we just tell them at like winter break or something. And we'll just have to be really careful around grandma and grandpa. I think we can do it. School shouldn't be a problem. I know you do all right in school, you're a math genius. You're trying to get a math scholarship."

"Yeah, but you suck at math. I can't get a math scholarship with you like, fucking up my grades Trish. You ask me weird math questions like all the time on Tumblr and then you still can't figure it out."

"Then I'll email you your homework. A couple bad grades shouldn't be too bad if they get suspicious. Homework is usually the bulk of the grade anyway. I'll just give it to you again after they back off. You can just like throw a couple things for me in math because I suck anyway. Just don't get me so low that I get kicked off the team. A couple months won't be too bad. The real thing is, can you deal with my soccer stuff? You should be able to because you're on your school's team."

"I can do soccer, Trish! Where are we right now?! It's my math that I'm worried about."

"That's what I just said. And I told you I would email you your math homework and I guess you can email me some other subject so it's equal. So... we gonna do this at the end of the Summer when you come back to Chicago with me?"

"I guess I do want to meet my other dad. And you know what, fuck being inconvenient." Lynn felt suddenly angry. "It would serve them right! They never even told us we were sisters! We should switch when we go back to Chicago."

They were going to do it. She was gonna meet Patrick and Trisha was gonna meet her dad. They were going to make up for lost time. Even though the angry feeling hadn't faded yet Lynn felt pumped. 

Then a problem came to her mind. A big one. "Ah shit."

"What?" Trisha asked. "Lynn, what?"

"My stomach piercing. You don't have one. I wear it all the time. Dad's gonna know something's up if am wearing a shirt that will show it when I like, stretch or something during the day, which I wear a lot of by the way, and it's not there all the time."

"So pierce my stomach one day when we're in Chicago and everyone's out of the house," Trisha suggested like it was obvious.

"Trisha."

"What? I'm not a weak bitch."

"No." Lynn shook her head. "It hurts like hell. I don't think you get how much."

"Lynn. I'm not weak. You're talking to the girl who gave herself botulism from old gum, remember? I also broke my wrist."

"Okay. But I don't think you get it." Lynn insisted.

"Lynn," Trisha said impatiently.

"Trish."

"Lynn. I can deal. Come on. This is the only thing getting in the way. Don't make me beg. I really want to do this."

Lynn hesitated. "I'll think about it, Trish."

"Seriously, Lynn?"

"Lynn."

"Okay. Alright. Fine!" Lynn gave in. Honestly, she wanted to do this as much as her sister did. They deserved to do it. "But we're gonna have to like soak the needle in alcohol for like an hour after we burn the crap out of it so there's no infection."

"Duh. I'm not telling you to give me a back alley job where they use the same needle without cleaning it on like three hundred people. We'd be safe about it."

"Okay, whatever Trisha." Lynn was still uneasy and a little, no, a lot worried about the whole amateur piercing deal. She had no idea how Trisha was so cool with it. "But we better start walking back to camp because I am starving and we need to get paper and stuff and start making maps of our houses and stuff and I'll kill you if we miss dinner because you couldn't stop running and just lose."

"Hell yeah!" Trisha whooped. "Now I can start focusing on what's important! The reds kicking the greens asses at the scrimmage!"


	3. 3

3

"Okay, you know Hemmy. I've texted you enough photos of him and Rigby." 

Lynn and Trisha were alone in the cabin on the floor by Annabelle's bunk that night while Celene was out at the shower block and Annabelle was hanging out with the girls in cabin nine. More yellows. Both were sitting cross-legged in front of the bunk bed frame and Lynn was holding her phone out to Trisha. She was showing her a recent picture of one of her and her dad's English bulldogs, Hemingway. The cabin they were in was near enough to the ocean that they could hear the ocean water hitting the shoreline and receding from it.

"I know Hemmy, Lynn. You send me pictures every two seconds."

"That's because Hemmy loves me and always wants me to take his picture. But yeah, he loves me. I don't know about you, though. Hemmy's weird about strangers. So he might be like "wtf" when you come in the house because you probably won't smell enough like me even though you're gonna be wearing my clothes."

"So what? He's gonna bite me?" Trisha asked.

"I don't think he'll bite you." Lynn shook her head. "But I would be careful at first. You look like me so he might just growl at you until he gets used to you. Also, in the formal living room, the white couch closest to the French doors to the backyard? If Hemmy is having an issue with you, do not sit on it. He will flip. Me and dad are like the only people he lets near that couch. He might actually try to bite you if he doesn't trust you and you sit there. Rigby loves everyone. You won't have a problem with Rigby."

"Also, on the white couches?" Lynn continued, "Do not eat anything in that room. Do not go near the white couches and chairs with nasty shoes or food or make-up or anything that stains. Dad will be the one flipping if you get something on them. Like I am not messing around. I've never stained them but I don't want you to be the one to test out what happens if you do stain them. So if you're gonna eat something, go eat it in the kitchen or in the rec room where the Xbox and crap is. We eat in there all the time. Basically anywhere but the formal living room. Got it?"

"Well, you don't have any dogs to worry about at my house. Just me and dad there." Trisha said. "But I'm warning you unless you go out somewhere with him or someone, you're gonna be on a vegetarian diet. So I hope you can deal with that."

"I can deal Trisha," Lynn assured her. "A couple months of veggie won't hurt me."

"Make sure you eat enough to replace the meat so you can do soccer and stuff," Trisha told her. "Like, look online for how to eat if you have to. Beans and nuts are your friends. And also, I'm obviously gonna take this time to push avocado on you. Avocado is amaze."

"Trish, you're gonna have to eat more meat than you're used to. Otherwise, dad is gonna catch on if I'm completely vegetarian all of the sudden. You're gonna have to start eating a little bit of the meat here so your body will be used to it when you get to Los Angeles."

"Okay. But after we kick the green team's asses. I can't be nauseous from meat before the scrimmage."

"Deal." Lynn agreed. "But you gotta start getting meat after that. I'm not saying to make yourself sick but enough to get you used to it."

"Alright, so I thought about this right before I fell asleep last night. Our voices are similar so we're really lucky there but what are we gonna do about you not having a Chicago accent, Lynn?"

"No, I think the question is what are we gonna do about yours, Trisha?" Lynn smirked. "Because you literally sound like my dad when he's been there for like a day when we go to see my grandparents for like Christmas and during the Summer."

"Lynn for real," Trisha stressed.

"Trisha. I can do a Chicago accent. I got you covered there. If I'm there for a few days I end up slipping into it and sounding like my dad. You just can't go back to my dad sounding like you do. You might get by with it for like four days because I am staying with my grandparents for a week after I leave here but then he's gonna be like "Why is Lynn talking like me?" and he's gonna say something. You're gonna have to practice talking without one."

"I can try."

"I'll just poke you or something every time you sound too much like dad," Lynn smirked again.

"Alright, do you want to go over house maps again-" Trisha started to ask but then Lynn leaned over and poked her hard in the ribs.

"Lynn, what the fuck?!"

"Too much Chi-kah-go." Lynn over emphasized and Trisha was not amused or laughing. "Told you I can do a Chicago accent. But yeah, I guess. Or maybe we should like, use the shitty wifi we can get on our phones and look at how to do a stomach piercing."

"No. Crap. We can't right now Lynn. Celene's coming back."

 

 

"Are you singing in Italian? Trish?" Lynn asked as she caught up with her sister after they had been there for one week. They were both on the path to the main field along with all the other residents for the first scrimmage which would be the red team versus the green team. The team that won would move on and play the next color and then the final two teams left at the end of the six-week camp period would battle for the camp cup.

Trisha didn't even seem to register her. She was too into listening to her iPod as she walked along. 

Lynn grabbed her by the red fabric of her team jersey that covered her shoulder. "Trisha?"

"What?!" Trisha whipped around to face her and shook her sister's hand off of her. "Yes! Sort of! It's not like I understand what he's saying! I just like the sound of it. Lynn, I'm getting in the zone. Come on. Go away."

"Trish. You can't listen to opera like you do. I'm not that refined. I'm actually still really surprised you're that refined. I know you told me you dig opera stuff like when we first met and you're always reblogging stuff about it but I'm still really surprised."

Trisha took one ear bud out. "Says the girl who got me to start watching "World's Dumbest Bar Fights" a year ago. But I will give credit where credit is due. That show is hilarious."

"Trish. You can't listen to opera when you go to LA. Dad is gonna be like "What the hell?" You're gonna have to stick to the stuff we both like. Like Panic!, The National, Morrissey, Interpol, all that."

"Okay. Chill, Lynn."

"Don't give attitude. I'm just warning you."

"Well, I'm gonna be listening to it before games Lynn. You can't stop me from doing that. It's how I get in the zone."

"Whatever. Just don't sing it out loud while you're in LA."

"Okay. Now go away." Trisha made a shooing motion at Lynn. "I need to focus here."

 

 

 

"What did I tell you about reds kicking the greens' asses? What did I tell you, Lynn?!" Trisha ran over to her sister as soon as the red team had scored the winning goal of the scrimmage and everyone had disbanded for food. "Camp cup here we come!" She picked up her water bottle and swallowed nearly half of its contents in one gulp.

"Yeah, yeah. Celebrate while you can. Me and Celene are gonna dethrone the red team when you play the blues." Lynn teased. "But hell of a game, though. You're a rockstar out there."

"Don't think so. You're looking at the undefeated soccer champion of the world right now. I kick ass in practices and I kick ass in games."

"Girl please." Celene made a "smh" noise. "I hope the next scrimmage is blues against reds."

"Watch it be yellows," Lynn said.

"Hey, I don't care if it's Annabelle who kicks her ass as long as someone does." Celene grinned.

"Nope. Nobody's kicking my ass. Sorry ladies. Wanna know why? Because I am undefeated soccer champion of the world. It hurts to look this good."

"Is she gonna be like this every time the reds win a scrimmage?" Celene asked. "You've known her longer."

"Probably. She's overly competitive. She broke her wrist over a dare." Lynn told her.

"Yeah. Go ahead, tell em. Tell em about the old gum thing too, Lynn." Trisha encouraged.

"God. You loving telling that story, don't you?"

"Old gum? Like chewed up gum?" Celene looked disgusted and honestly, Trisha wouldn't have blamed her if it had been chewed up gum because she would have been disgusted too. "Ew. That's nasty. And since you're so over competitive, why don't you try for the swimming record thing they do here every year? They take you a couple miles out in the ocean and you try and beat the record time by the time you get back to shore."

"No. It wasn't chewed. It wasn't opened. It was new. It was just old." Trisha explained. "Let's find Annabelle and I'll tell you guys about it while we walk to the mess."

"Celene. Why did you tell her about that? Now she's gonna have to try it. You don't know Trisha-"

"Well, that's obvious." Trisha scoffed. "I'm gonna kick that record time's ass."

"I don't think so. They don't just get soccer players here Trisha. They get hardcore swimmers and other athletes here too." Celene informed her. "I've been coming here for three years. The swimming thing is surprisingly popular for a soccer camp. More people than you would think actually try it. And some of the girls here are really good at it."

"We'll see." Trisha shrugged. " But seriously, let's find Annabelle so I can tell you guys about the old gum incident."


	4. 4

4

 

“You’re eating the fish tacos?” Annabelle asked as Trisha joined the rest of cabin six for lunch the day after the reds vs greens scrimmage. Trisha was starting on incorporating meat into her diet immediately.

“What? I can eat fish.”

“You’re a vegetarian.” Annabelle countered.

“I can eat fish. And I’m not a vegetarian. I just eat a vegetarian diet a lot of the time because my dad is.”

“Trisha. You’ve been eating only vegetables for the entire time we’ve been here. You haven’t touched any meat.”

“So I can’t eat meat? Why are you grilling me about eating meat?”

“Not if you’re gonna throw up all over the cabin. You said meat makes you sick.” Celene said.

“This is not enough to make me sick. I would have to eat like, twice this much to make myself throw up.” Trisha reassured her but Celene gave her a skeptical look.

“Well, don’t.”

“Relax. I’m not gonna make myself throw up. Can’t. Too much at stake. Can’t be sick all Summer when the reds have to win the camp cup.”

"That's cute. You still think the reds are gonna win." Celene smiled, amused. "That's really cute."

"And it's cute that you think we aren't." Trisha returned, unphased. She was unphased at least until Lynn kicked her in the shin under the table, something she knew was directed at her accent. But that had nothing to do with Celene and she tried to control her expression.

 

 

Several rounds of practicing all day had passed and the week was almost over. The next mock game would be Thursday. It was Wednesday, in the early evening. The blues were set to play the oranges in the next scrimmage that Saturday. Then the next Saturday it would be purples and reds.

"God. Do you want to look over the house maps?" Trisha suggested as she and Lynn changed into something cleaner and less sweaty than what they had been wearing all day. "Because we need to and every time we try someone walks in here."

"Yeah." Lynn agreed. "But let's go down to the beach so nobody does walk in."

Lynn pointed to a room marked 'formal' on the blueprint of her house that she had drawn up on paper from the public camp office where people sent out emails and such, around fifteen minutes later. She and Trisha were sitting in the sand at a point far enough down the beach that it was out of view of the main camp grounds. Trisha's map sat underneath her cell phone on the ground. "Okay, so this is the white couch room. Don't sit on the white couch closest to the French doors. Don't bring shit that stains into the white couch room-"

"Lynn. This is like, the hundredth time you've told me that. I know okay."

"I don't think you do," Lynn said seriously.

"Lynn."

"Anyway, it's right off the kitchen. It's in the same room as the kitchen. Just at the other end of it-"

"Why is Pete so weird about the white couches, anyway?" Trisha interrupted her. "Couldn't you just bleach 'em? They're white."

Lynn shook her head. "Don't try it, Trish. Dad's kept those things fricking pristine for like ten years. Seriously, don't try it. Okay, the other living room is down the hall off the kitchen to the right. Downstairs bathroom is right here. Further down, you'll find stairs. They go up to my room and the other bedrooms. Mine is here. Second door when you get up there. My bathroom is next to my room. When you're downstairs, the basement stairs are right around the corner from the white couches. They go to dad's studio and crap. Don't go like, smash a bass or something? Okay?" She grinned. "Okay. So that's really all you need to know. You'll see rest when you get there. But you won't be totally lost since you've seen this."

Trisha picked up her phone and her map, shaking the sand off of the paper. "Here's mine. You come in, you go down a short hall and you're in the living room. Dad's got antique mid-century crap in there and I get yelled at least once a month for not using coasters and setting drinks on the wood so 'use the coasters, Patricia. They're there for a reason.' Kitchen's right near there. Formal dining room's off of that. We don't really go in there but whatever. The stairs and the half bath are off the formal dining room with a couple bedrooms. One's an office, the other one's a guest room. My room and bathroom are upstairs at the top of the stairs. Kay?"

Lynn nodded. "I've got little cacti in my window. Sorry. But I just thought about it. Don't touch them. Really don't touch the little fuzzy round one. I brushed against it once accidentally when I was watering them. Never again. Don't kill them by overwatering them. I like them."

"I know. You've posted enough pictures of them at different times of the day on Tumblr."

"They're aesthetic. I'll give you a guide on how to water them before we leave."

"What am I gonna do with you, my little hipster flower baby?" Trisha teased her.

"I'm not hipster," Lynn said defensively.

"You have succulents and glass bottles in your window. You have an aesthetic slash band blog called "Desert Princess." You tell me all the time that Zberg needs to send you all her clothes that she doesn't want anymore. You kind of are."

"Zberg does need to send me her old clothes. It would be easy too. She lives right near me. Ryan is always at my house for whatever all the time because of my dad. But that doesn't make me a hipster." Lynn argued.

"Lynn. One of your favorite bands is The Police."

"That doesn't make me a hipster."

Trisha was close to laughing. "It kind of really does."

"No," Lynn said. "I think the person who listens to opera regularly is the hipster. Just so you know."

"Opera and tenor shit doesn't make me a hipster. Stop trying to get the attention off of how you're a hipster."

"I'm not a hipster."

"You are."

"Whatever Trish."

"Don't get mad at me because of your hipster-ness."

"Can you just get back to telling me about your house, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," Trisha said, entering her passcode into her phone and going straight to her photo gallery. "Let me find some pics with the house in the background."

"Oh shit," Lynn said suddenly. "I have a long sleeved concert shirt for The Police from like, nineteen-eighty-three. Don't run it through the washer if you wear it. It was expensive and you'll ruin it."

"Hipster."

"Shut up."

 

 

“So when did you want to do the piercing? One more week and we'll be halfway through camp. Did you want to do the piercing here?”

Trisha and Lynn were the first back to the cabin Saturday night and Trisha had taken it upon herself to bring up the stomach piercing. She had let it rest for over a week because Lynn had clearly been trying to avoid talking to her about it but enough was enough. It was one of the most crucial parts of the plan. Lynn needed to get over it and accept it had to be done. They couldn't wait until the last minute to figure out how to deal with it.

“Not tonight." Lynn was already up the ladder of her and Celene's bunks and flopping on the mattress which she would never have done if she hadn't showered. She had the good sense to that afternoon once the scrimmage between the blue and orange teams was done. "I am dead. Stupid orange team. Pain in the ass to beat tonight. We won with two points. Can you believe that shit? Two points. Two to one. And then that one chick had to keep pulling headers out of her ass and like killing our goalie." She complained but was then back on topic. "I don’t know. When would we even be able to?”

“Uh, sometime before the next scrimmage that the reds play on Saturday. Annabelle and Celene have been out of the cabin at the same time plenty of times.” Trisha told her like "duh."

“Yeah, but what if we do it at night or something and someone comes around doing a head check or whatever and catches us. We’ll get thrown out and won’t be able to switch at all at the end of camp.” Lynn pointed out and yeah, it was a good point. “And where do we get alcohol and a lighter? We can't take a bottle of alcohol from the infirmary thing.”

“I’m sure someone around here has a lighter. And there is probably a drug store or something where we can get a bottle of alcohol. I'd honestly be more worried about someone doing a head check like you said. But I am sure we could get around it.”

“That seems kinda complicated, Trish. And where would we get a needle?”

“Drug store with the alcohol?” Trisha supplied.

“Still seems like going out of the way and taking a lot of risk. And I don't even think they would have a needle big enough. What if they think we’re trying to like, drink the rubbing alcohol?”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Hey. People drink perfume when they are drunks.”

“Lynn. Do you really want to do this at our grandparents?! I think it would be way worse if one of them caught us.”

“I think it’d be safer than doing it on the floor here. And I still don’t think you get how much it hurts. People have said it’s worse than getting your tongue done. And I am not piercing your tongue. One: I don’t even know how, and two: I don’t even wanna know how dad would react if I came back from Chicago with a pierced tongue.”

"I don't want my tongue pierced."

"You probably wouldn't say that if someone told you that you couldn't do it."

"Shut the hell up. I just want you to pierce my stomach and I don't understand why you're being so difficult about it."

"I'm gonna laugh my ass off when you find out how wrong you are about being a weak bitch when I do pierce your stomach."

"Not a weak bitch."

"We'll see."

"Wanna bet on it, Lynn?"

"Sure. Fifteen bucks that you're a weak bitch when I shove a needle through your belly button. And by the way, we're gonna have to do it in Chicago because it's a way bigger needle that we're gonna have to buy online or something and you don't have the jewelry right now."

"Fine. And fifteen bucks says I'm not."

 

 

The final scrimmage and the camp cup was in six days. The red team was up against the blue team. It was the last Sunday of camp and fifteen people had just finished trying to beat the record time for a two-mile swim back to shore from way out in no man's land in the Pacific ocean. 

Annabelle and Trisha were among them and Annabelle, who had told nobody that she was one of the top swimmers on her school's team back in Colorado all Summer and had kind of just showed up there that afternoon in a yellow bikini to the entire cabin's surprise, had gotten the title.

Lynn was grinning as she and Celene walked back up the beach with their cabin mates after watching the whole thing that had taken over an hour, in a large group that had turned out for the event. "So much for all your bragging all Summer that you were gonna kick everyone's ass. Everyone kicked your ass, Trish." 

"Hey! I had a good time! I was not the worst time! Not my fault I didn't know that Annabelle is on her swim team at home but you know I always give credit where credit is due," Trisha turned to Annabelle, "you slay girl. You're amazing. Those waves were choppy and damn, I am freezing. That water was fucking cold," she wrapped her arms over her dripping body, "You definitely kicked my ass. Also, I'm overcompetitive Lynn. I don't know when you're going to realize that it makes me talk out of my ass all the time."

“We know that’s true.” Celene contributed.

“Stop hating.”

“Stop hating? Who says that anymore except for like, forty-year-olds trying to relate?”

“I say it. So shut up.”

“Okay, but I’ll be ‘hating’ when we kick your ass on Saturday.”

“I might not know swimming but you’re not kicking my ass at soccer, Celene. Sorry.”

“You saw how the oranges played us a few weeks ago. If we can take out the oranges, you’ll be easy.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do.”

“I’m sure you do. But I can’t control what delusions people have.”

Lynn jabbed her sister in the side. 

"You have got to fix that." She muttered so quietly that nobody but Trisha would have been able to hear her. It had been five weeks of her trying to correct it and Trisha was still slipping up and showing that she was very much from northern Illinois. If she kept it up, she wouldn't last two weeks at Lynn's house.


End file.
